


Different worlds

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's just... different." - Set some time after the season finale, so beware of spoilers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different worlds

**Different worlds**

She starts worrying the moment she notices him fidgeting. A fidgety Patrick Jane can only mean trouble.

"Jane."

His eyes meet hers only a split second later. She's half expecting one of his cheerful smiles – the one he usually wears when he's pretending that everything is fine.

He doesn't smile though. His face is serious enough.

"We have to talk."

Lisbon feels her heart sinking. She's been hoping that he won't be willing to discuss Red John's death. She really has no energy left to do that.

"Let's talk then."

He sits on the corner of her desk without breaking eye contact. That's a bad sign.

"I meant it – as I'm sure you've already guessed."

She briefly racks her brain in order to find out what he's hinting at. The single thing that pops up in her mind is one particular conversation they had about Red John – what seems ages ago now.

" _If we catch Red John, he's not walking anywhere. He's mine."_

" _Don't talk like that. I can't let you anywhere near this case if you start talking crazy like that."_

" _Crazy? You're crazy if you think you're gonna stop me. Red John is mine. You try to stand in my way and you will regret it."_

Well, she stopped him. And she doesn't regret it in the least.

Maybe she's going to regret the consequences of her choice, but that doesn't actually matter.

(She doesn't want to lose her best friend though. Not after all they've been through together. Yet she has done what she had to do, and she wouldn't change that.)

"So what?"

He frowns slightly. "That's not my call, you know."

Suddenly she's not so sure they're on the same page at all. What on Earth is he talking about?

"I don't understand…"

"The thing I said that day in your office. The one I pretended not to remember when you asked me about it."

She's completely breathless now. Does this mean – could it possibly mean…?

"Jane…"

Finally a smile lights up his features. "I like how much you're fond of my name, but I have to warn you it doesn't make a very meaningful conversation all by itself."

Her hand smacks his arm almost of its own accord.

"Could you please stop speaking in riddles, or would it be too much to ask?"

She hears him sighing softly.

"As you wish. _I'm in love with you_. Is that plain enough?"

Waves of panic begin to rush through her. He doesn't actually mean that. He really doesn't.

One thing is him telling those words a moment before staging her shooting.

He was scared, hadn't seen her in six whole months – it kind of made sense in a way.

Another thing is… well, she'd rather not even go there.

Both of their lives are already a mess – have been for years now. No need to complicate matters even further.

"I guess we're both tired. We'd better go home and get some rest. When was the last time you slept properly, Jane?"

His lips twitch ever so slightly. "Is that your way to tell me you don't want to talk about this?"

They stare at each other for a moment. Eventually she gives way.

"Okay. Let's make things clear. Red John is dead and you don't know what to do with your life now. And you've gotten used to having me always hovering somewhere at your side. But that has nothing to do with love, believe me."

She can tell he's desperately trying to contain his anger now.

"Since when you've become so good at reading people, may I ask?"

"Don't want neither of us to end up with a broken heart – that's all."

He watches her more closely this time. "That implies you feel the same about me too."

"Just answer one question, Jane. Do you love me the way you loved your wife?"

The prolonged silence that follows is worse than anything else. He ponders her question carefully enough before venturing an answer.

"No, I don't."

So he's admitting it. Well, that's only for the better – isn't it?

They can go back to where they started – namely being just good friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

Why is it that she feels so disappointed then? She wasn't really thinking that he could love her. (Was she?)

Angela has always been the love of his life, and always will be. End of story.

Abruptly she stands up and bolts to the door. She needs to get some air.

To be alone – right now.

His fingers are gentle as they close around her wrist and hold her back.

"I'm not done here."

"But I am. Let me go."

His eyes are silently pleading her to stay. So stay she does – despite her better judgment.

He doesn't let go of her wrist. His thumb starts drawing circles on it instead.

The contact is enough to sooth her somehow.

"My wife was different from you, Lisbon. And I was a different man at the time."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Jane."

"I do. Please, listen to me."

"Okay."

"I can't love you the same way I did with Angela. My love for you is different because it _has_ to be different. That doesn't mean you matter less to me than she did. It's just… different."

He pauses briefly in order to study her reaction. Then he simply goes on.

"I still love Angela. She'll always be a part of me somehow. Yet I've found out that I can love you as well – if only you allow me to."

The lump she feels in her throat makes it impossible for her to speak. All she's able to do is reaching for his hand and tentatively threading her fingers through his.

The unmistakable look of glee that shows on his face is the most endearing thing she's seen in years.

She's not a replacement for his first wife. She's just… Lisbon.

 _His Lisbon_ – that's what his eyes are telling her.

It takes her a moment to recognize the emotion that's throbbing in her chest. When was the last time she's been truly, thoroughly happy?

The feeling leaves her slightly dizzy and lightheaded – as if she's a bit tipsy.

That's what prompts her to close the distance between them and brush her lips on the corner of his mouth.

The intimacy of such a simple gesture is enough to send shivers down her spine.

When he kisses her back every other thought is finally swept away.

His obsession with Red John, the reverent adoration he still has for his long-lost family – none of these things really matters right now.

The single thing that matters is the two of them. And the future they can have together – in spite of all the obstacles that have been standing in their way until now.


End file.
